


Signs and Semiotics

by orderandsophism



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Attempted Seduction, Awkward Blow Jobs, Bad Sex, M/M, Makeup Sex, Masturbation, Meme, Modern Era, Stupid boyfriends, these are the worst tags ever I'm going to cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1498360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderandsophism/pseuds/orderandsophism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Office romances are frowned upon, but not forbidden, so it’s not as though they’d get in trouble. What bothers Levi is the thought that anyone would think he didn’t deserve to be where he was because of some illicit affair with his boss. But when Erwin's clandestine advances prove too much for him, Levi pushes him away, but he wonders if he's pushed too far.</p><p>AKA "Dey fell in wuv and den dey gon fuck." - <a href="http://commanderrockhard.tumblr.com/">commanderrockhard</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Signs and Semiotics

**Author's Note:**

> This was a meme that I took too far because I go HAM on the regular, to include the following prompts: 
> 
> Levi having some “private time” and Erwin accidentally walking in  
> Levi trying to turn Erwin on  
> Levi tying up Erwin  
> Levi confessing a fetish  
> Levi leaving hickeys on Erwin's neck  
> Levi trying to play footsie with Erwin during a meeting  
> Levi trying to go down on Erwin under the table during dinner  
> Levi grinding up against Erwin  
> Levi bending over seductively to pick something up for Erwin  
> Levi giving Erwin a lap dance

Levi’s not usually the type to be jealous. He doesn’t have much to be jealous of. Erwin is usually the one sidling up to him like a shadow, touching a surreptitiously protective hand to his hip whenever he sees him talking to Hanji or Petra or the new intern Eren, or practically anyone else around the office. It’s infuriating, and Levi has come to near hate feeling the press of fingers at the small of his back that he anticipates anytime he stops to talk to anyone for more than five minutes.  
  
Today, it’s Eren. He's asking for help with the filing system, looking up at him with wide, expectant eyes, and it’s cute. He likes the way this kid looks at him, all honest and unbeguiling and full of admiration. Levi nearly smiles, amused at the intentiveness of his attentions.  
  
Like clockwork, Erwin comes up from behind. “Hey, Levi, when you have a moment, can you look over these project reports?” Erwin asks, touching Levi’s elbow lightly.

Levi jerks his arm away reflexively, and gives Eren a placating look when he realizes the confusion on his face. “Sorry,” he says simply, hardly an apology, but he has a feeling Eren wouldn’t really hold it against him. He only looks surprised as Levi says in a dangerously conciliatory voice, “Will you excuse me?”  
  
Levi turns to deliver a most devastatingly waspish frown in his boss’s direction, and indicates with a nod of his head that he should follow when he turns on his heel and walks down the row of cubicles. Erwin’s face is blank, not registering any sort of understanding, but he follows after anyways.  
  
“Will you fucking quit it?” Levi hisses, stalking furiously back to his desk outside Erwin’s office. “It’s fucking embarrassing, you sniffing around me like some possessive piece of shit. Everyone’s noticed.”  
  
Levi hates how easily and almost gracefully Erwin follows after him. “Well, we could just tell them we’re dating,” Erwin says simply.

Levi hates, too, how simple it is for him to suggest that. “No,” Levi insists, teeth gritting.  
  
Office romances are frowned upon, but not forbidden, so it’s not as though they’d get in trouble. What bothers Levi is the thought that anyone would think he didn’t deserve to be where he was because of some illicit affair. Erwin assures him constantly that no one thinks like that, but Levi can’t help but feel the eyes on the back of his head, and the lingering wonderment of some of his coworkers over how the guy from the coffee stand downstairs came to be the Administrative Assistant to the Vice President of Public Relations (he did it in the usual way, finding the job in the want ads. The adjacency of his former and future employment was only fantastically serendipitous). And it’s not that it isn’t obvious that Levi deserves the position: he’s always been more than capable, meticulous in his work, diligent and punctual in everything that he does. He just doesn’t like giving anyone room to doubt him.  
  
Neither does he like to make his private life known, and Erwin’s advances, no matter how well-disguised, are even too much for him. They’d been dating for five months now, but the jealousy started before then. It was how he knew Erwin was interested in the first place. In the beginning it was sweet, almost thrilling, to feel so wanted. Erwin was solicitous, amusingly demonstrative in his own stoic, self-assured way, and Levi loved the antiquated feeling of being courted. The deliciously clandestine nature of it excited and elated him. But when Hanji and Petra filed past his cubicle with that telltale, knowing sort of giggle, Levi had decided he’d had enough.  
  
“Levi,” Erwin says, plaintive now. “It’s really not that big of a deal-”  
  
“I told you, no,” Levi repeats, and his voice is sharp with exasperation. “Keep your goddamn hands to yourself, don’t talk to me at work, and really, just don’t talk to me at all for the next couple days unless it’s about work.”  
  
Erwin blinks, only the most imperceptible flickering of hurt in his eyes belies what he's feeling, and Levi immediately feels guilty. But he’s also a stubborn thing, so instead of apologizing, he only continues to glare pointedly at his boss.  
  
“Alright,” Erwin concedes, and hands Levi a folder from his desk. “I need this sent to the copywriter. And Ms. Strauss from The Guild will be here next week to discuss the Titan campaign.”  
  
Levi nods and feels an empty sort of triumph, and over the next week he realizes how hollow his Pyrrhic victory is. Erwin no longer calls him to make sure he’s gotten home safely, doesn’t invite him to lunch or speak to him outside of brief instructions of his quotidian duties. Levi wonders at Erwin’s stolid commitment to honor his wishes and finds himself uncomfortable with the volte-face of his boss’s attentions. He adamantly refuses to address or redress the situation out of an inexorable stubbornness that he happens to hate about himself.  
  
But when the statuesque blonde saunters into the office like she owns the place, Levi takes notice of her self-possessed airs. When Erwin shakes her hand warmly and she brushes the hair from her face in a magnificently coquettish fashion, Levi observes with narrowing eyes. When he sees Erwin gestures gallantly to his office and touches her elbow like he did Levi to lead her into his office, Levi’s ire is at full tilt.  
  
The subsequent meeting in the stately conference room is pleasant, if slow-moving. Erwin and the blonde smile intimately, and the entire exchange has the peculiar air of two people discussing dinner plans rather than the vagaries of a vocational transaction. Erwin doesn’t speak to Levi, barely even looks at him. When he finally does, Levi sits at attention like a dog.  
  
“Levi,” Erwin says, his eyes still locked on the alluring blonde across the way. “Go downstairs and get Ms Strauss an iced green tea latte with extra whipped cream.”

The blonde smiles and lowers her eyes demurely before lifting them to meet Erwin’s with a practiced, kittenish solemnity. “You remember,” she breathes, and Levi wants to scream.  
  
“How could I forget?” Erwin smiles, leaning in conspiratorially, his eyes intent on her. “You used to practically live on those in college.”  
  
Levi stands abruptly at the revelation, fingertips pressing hard into the heavy mahogany table to balance himself, his knuckles nearly white with the effort. It incenses him to know that there is some sort of nebulous, comfortable, preexisting relationship between them that somehow doesn’t explain away their demeanor and only serves to incite his burgeoning jealousy further. Neither seems to take notice of him, which is really better, since he doesn't exactly want to explain away his utter petulance at the moment.  
  
Erwin makes witty repartee and the blonde laughs delightedly. They laugh freely, so familiarly, and Levi wonders forlornly if Erwin’s ever laughed like that with him. Lowering his gaze in dejection, he takes notice of Erwin’s fountain pen balanced precariously on the edge of the table and promptly pokes at it with his small finger. It lands on the carpeted floor with a dull but audible thud by Levi’s feet. Erwin’s eyes bypass Levi and look straight to the floor, leaning over to retrieve it, but Levi is faster, bent over at Erwin’s side, pushing out his ass in unmistakable provocation, meeting Erwin’s eyes with a pointed, deliberate look of wanting. Erwin only smiles benignly, retrieving the pen from Levi’s fingers with a gracious “thank you” before turning his attentions to his guest.  
  
Levi concedes defeat with a loaded sigh and turns to leave to get the order.  
  
“Levi used to work at the café downstairs,” he hears Erwin explain. “Too bad, you probably would have _loved_ his green tea lattes.” It is the last thing he hears before the heavy wooden door shuts behind him.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Levi returns with blonde's drink, as well as an espresso doppio for Erwin. Erwin takes them from him, smiling kindly but detachedly, before pushing the blonde’s drink towards her.  
  
Levi resumes his place by Erwin’s side, sitting back in his chair, irritated beyond belief. He’d asked for this, and knows full well he has no right to protest, but it doesn’t stop him from pushing his foot captiously against Erwin’s beneath the table. No movement in response, and Levi cannot not discern whether it is blackballing or acceptance on Erwin’s part. To quell the doubt, he lifts his toe to graze deliberately beneath the hem of Erwin’s pants, against his ankle. He watches Erwin out the corner of his eye and is surprised to feel Erwin’s foot push back slowly … and retreat.  
  
He pushed him away.  
  
Before Levi can react, Erwin stands suddenly. “All right,” he says with an exultant smile, holding out his hand, which the blonde promptly grasps and shakes in truce. “Now that we’ve come to an agreement, we should celebrate with dinner. Levi can make the arrangements.”  
  
And that’s how Levi finds himself the third wheel in a corporate dinner at Tao, the most obnoxiously trendy pan-Asian restaurant-cum-skanky dance club, filled with more desperately trashy Upper East Side debutantes than Levi has ever seen in one place.  
  
Erwin and his guest are engaged in a  tête-à-tête, having managed to get themselves drunk between discussions of work and their college days and rubbery edamame appetizers. Levi’s feeling pretty tipsy, and is thankful for the inebriate haze that dulls the pain of the slight he’d brought upon himself. A chopstick is pushed off the side, this time not on purpose, and Levi goes to pick it up. Under the table, he sees a slender, retreating hand, and, noting its direction, surmises that it could only have been just resting on his boyfriend’s knee. How long it had been there, he wasn’t sure. He wouldn’t have known if it had happened at all, not by Erwin’s expression, at least. Stoic and tirelessly unflappable, Erwin is a model of composure, and Levi practically wants to shove the platter of moo goo gai pan in his face to see if it would elicit any sort of reaction at all.  
  
Instead, he reaches between Erwin’s legs and trails a lingering finger over the seam of his trousers, rubbing soft, insistent circles to stroke him to life. He notes with colorless satisfaction as he feels Erwin quickly grow half-hard at his touch. Growing bolder, he crawls over Erwin’s knee, inserting himself awkwardly between it and the bottom of the table, and presses his lips to the budding jut within his trousers. Shaky fingers attempt to undo the zipper, only to be peremptorily pushed away, and Levi sits back with balled fists.  
  
He hadn’t pushed _her_ hand away. And if he enjoys her company so much, he could have it, Levi decides.  
  
“I’m going home,” he says, his words thick with his near inebriation. He snatches his coat off the back of his chair and turns to leave before he can see either of their reactions, but he suspects they didn’t react at all.  
  
He hails a cab just outside the restaurant. It stinks and smells like something died and then pissed itself. For some reason, he asks to be taken to Erwin’s brownstone on the Upper West Side instead of his hole of an apartment in Jackson Heights. The bastard’s not likely to be home tonight, and if he is, Levi is more than happy to impinge upon whatever good time they anticipate having.  
  
Levi watches without focus the flickering lamplight, shining amber in the reflective wet pavement, and feels a sense of longing wash over him. He misses him. He misses Erwin. He misses him so much that the first place he goes after slipping inside with his spare key and kicking off his shoes in the mud room is Erwin’s bedroom. He falls face-first into his pillow, breathing in the scent of his boyfriend that he loves so much. It smells like his hair, his cologne, his fabric softener, and Levi loves it implicitly. He rolls onto his back after he’s had his fill for the moment, resting his hands on his chest to feel the slow, sad beating of his half-broken heart.  
  
He thinks of the first time he and Erwin ended up here in his bed: drunk after a company party a few blocks away, Levi had been practically carried home by Erwin, more for the latter’s convenience than out of any ulterior motives. In fact, Erwin had been a perfect gentleman, setting Levi down in his luxuriant bed while he offered to take the couch, ignorant or ignoring of Levi’s silent, handsy approach to asking him to stay. Levi had brushed his lips so gently against his Erwin’s cheek he wondered if he’d even felt it. His hands clung insistently, clumsily at his sleeves, tugging Erwin down with an urgency he was ashamed of. But Erwin simply extracted himself from Levi’s grasp, and it wasn’t until Levi told him with a piteous, plaintive look in his eyes that he can’t sleep without something pressed against his back that Erwin had slipped in bed behind him. Levi had pressed his back against him, nearly falling asleep in the sanctuary of Erwin’s warmth and forgetting his purpose. He’d turned around to slip a tentative hand between Erwin’s thighs and Erwin had gone rigid with unease, and it wasn’t until Levi had whispered hotly against his neck that he wasn’t drunk and wanted to kiss him that Erwin had obliged. Erwin’s kisses were nothing like he’d expected: soft and patient and sumptuous and earnest, and they filled him with a sense of exhilarating repletion that only exacerbated his desire.  
  
Levi’d always thought Erwin would have been a serious and perfunctory lover, which honestly was kind of hot. He’d fantasized so many nights about climbing on top of that stone-faced, somber man and having his way with him, getting off to the look of delicious incredulity in his clear blue eyes. What he hadn’t expected was the way Erwin gathered him up in his arms and negotiated his body with bold, exploratory hands, how Erwin stroked and prodded him until Levi cried out to be fucked, how frantic Erwin had managed to make him with his patient fingers and his cocksure smile.  
  
Levi suddenly feels flushed at the memory, a little more than hot under the collar. He pulls at his tie, undoes the first button of his shirt, and after a thoughtful moment, another. Then another. And another. He pulls the tails of his shirt out, then decides to divest himself of it altogether. His pants feel like an encumbrance now, most likely due to the tumescent protuberance tenting boldly beneath the confines of his trousers, and soon those are slipped off and discarded onto the floor. He finds himself bare but for his red cotton boxer briefs and the red silk tie still hanging indolently around his neck. The smooth linen sheets feel inviting against his bare skin, and Levi gives in to indulgence and slips a hand inside his underwear. Fingers idly stroke the length of his hardness before growing bolder and encircling them with a practiced certainty that he really finds more soothing than anything else. But he’s hard, painfully hard, and wants desperately to remember the way Erwin feels because he wonders if he’s fucked it up and driven his boyfriend into the waiting arms of some fair-haired slattern.  
  
After what seems like an eternity of deliberation, he resolves to do it, and fumbles around in Erwin's bedside table for the small bottle of lube within. He closes his eyes and remembers Erwin: the weight of him when he pushes him down, the scent of him, the way he applies his lips to Levi’s skin, venerating him while his hands traverse his body like they own him. His breath hitches when he’s close, and he whispers Erwin’s name like a prayer.  
  
He hears the door and stops dead. When he opens his eyes, Erwin is there, suit jacket draped neatly over his arm and watching Levi with a mild, inquisitive expression. Levi stops his hand and turns away with a scowl, an attempt to hide his devastating mortification. His irritation is directed at the object of his erstwhile fantasy now manifested at the foot of the bed, but Levi cannot convince himself of his own anger.  
  
Erwin opens his mouth to speak, but before he can ask what exactly Levi is doing, the dark-haired man is sliding off the bed to gather up his clothes. “I’m surprised you’re home,” Levi says bitterly, unable to stop himself. “What happened to your date?”  
  
“She’s downstairs, actually,” Erwin informs him, matter-of-fact, as if he is unknowing or uncaring of how the information might affect him.  
  
The admission stings, and Levi feels dizzy and nearly ready to puke. “Then what are you doing up here?” Clutching his clothes to his chest, he’s half ready to fly out the door, but there’s a part of him that wants to stay, wants to fight, wants the truth, wants to see this through.  
  
“I was putting my jacket away,” Erwin says in his honest, simple way, and Levi gives a short sardonic laugh before he pushes past Erwin to finish dressing in the bathroom.  
  
“Levi,” Erwin breathes, catching his arm, and before Levi can think, he is drawing Erwin down into a kiss and pushing him back onto the bed. Erwin fists a proprietary hand through Levi’s dark locks, pulling him into deeper into the kiss. He allows Levi to shove him hard against the headboard and watches with unabashed fascination as Levi climbs into his lap. The crush of lips is beautiful and desolating, full of want and a desperation Levi wants to will away but finds he cannot.  
  
“Levi, wait,” Erwin whispers, breaking the kiss just long enough to talk. “She’s …”  
  
“Do you care?” Levi asks, and Erwin shakes his head and presses his lips to the sharp line of Levi’s jaw.  
  
“I’m mad at you,” Erwin murmurs, though his kisses are almost sweet.  
  
“I’m mad at _you_ ,” Levi retorts automatically, then pauses in thought. “Is that why you brought her home?”  
  
“No, Levi-” Erwin begins, but is stopped by Levi’s hand over his mouth. Levi doesn’t want to hear whatever his explanation is, doesn’t want to hear why. All he cares about is that Erwin is his for the moment.  
  
Lifting his hips, the raven reaches between his legs and smooths a hand down the seam of Erwin’s trousers. Erwin is hard already, and Levi gives up a shit-eating grin. “So is this for her or for me?”  
  
Erwin murmurs a response that Levi assumes is an emphatic ”you,” but is muffled by Levi’s hand still pressing hard against his mouth. Levi retrieves his other hand and settles himself in Erwin’s lap again, pushing down and rolling his hips forward slowly with a low moan. He presses his hands into Erwin’s chest, propping himself up as he grinds himself against Erwin’s erection, aware of his own aching one and ignoring it.  
  
His mouth freed, Erwin gives Levi a pleading look. “She’ll hear us,” he reminds him, in spite of his hands smoothing up Levi’s thighs.  
  
Levi shoots him a withering look, swatting his hands away before dismounting. _Fucking dirty old man, he’s probably getting off to this_ , he thinks, and turns on the stereo. The music begins in the middle of a song: an ambient melody juxtaposed against a thumping, irregularly syncopated beat, a haunting, reverberate descant of voices above it all. It’s beautiful and sensual and wanton all at the same time, and Levi lets it play as he ducks into Erwin’s enormous walk-in closet to grab a fistful of his neatly folded ties from the cabinet devoted to his extensive collection of silk neckwear.  
  
Erwin recognizes the material in Levi’s hands and his lips quirk up in a knowing smile. “What are you planning on doing with those?”  
  
“Restraining you,” Levi says, a little irritated, mounting him once more. “Just in case you don’t know how to keep your disgusting fucking hands to yourself.”  
  
“I don’t think I know how to do that when it comes to you,” Erwin says, and Levi wants to slap the taunting lilt from his voice. “I didn’t know you were into this sort of thing.”  
  
“There’s lots of things you don’t know about me yet,” Levi says detachedly, as he straps Erwin’s wrist to his slatted headboard. “But that’s probably because you were too distracted by some blonde hussy to pay attention.” He does the other with the same mechanical dispassion.  
  
“Levi, let me explain-,” Erwin begins, but Levi pushes a length of silk between his teeth and gags him.  
  
“Whatever you think you’re going to say to me to make anything better is irrelevant,” Levi says, and begins to grind his ass in slow, smooth circles against Erwin’s cock. His hips snap in time with the pounding beat from the song on the stereo, and he rakes his fingers slowly through his dark hair, hands smoothing around his neck and down the expanse of his chest. His right hand slips inside the waistband of his crimson boxer briefs and he plays with himself, eyes locked on Erwin’s. His left hand reaches inside to wipe off the precum at his tip before plunging his hand behind him and pressing a finger to the tightness between his legs.  
  
Levi watches as Erwin’s eyes grow wide and glaze over, but Levi keeps up his clandestine show with a lasciviousness that surprises even him. Erwin makes a disgruntled noise, and Levi turns around to see Erwin frowning. “Take them off,” the look in Erwin's eyes say, nodding at the underwear that obscures his view.  
  
“Why?” Levi asks, flatly. “It’s not like this is for you.”  
  
He turns around and slips out of them anyways, leaning over to grab the lube. Reaching behind him to smooth lube over Erwin’s erection, he then eases himself down onto it, gripping the blond’s hips as he leans back into him. Hips rock forward and back, and Levi makes a wanton noise, but its meaning is empty. He hates this position, hates the discomfort, hates the unintimate nature of it, in spite of it being exactly what he wants. He doesn’t want to stare into Erwin’s face, doesn’t want the desire to kiss him wash over him, doesn’t want to let him see how much Levi wants this, him, everything. He wants Erwin to watch the way his sinews of his back twist and undulate, the way his slender hips move with the grace of a song, and miss this. Miss him.  
  
“I saw her hand on your leg,” Levi says between grunts as he gasps and strains against Erwin’s cock.  
  
Erwin moans something into the gag, and Levi ignores him. He is filled with Erwin. This is what he wants. But it feels hollow, and Levi almost feels like crying. He wants so badly to come, and wraps his hand around his own cock again in a half-hearted attempt. He pumps himself frantically, desperately, with an exigency that overwhelms him. He comes in his hand at last, and it feels like nothing at all.  
  
Wiping his hand off on Erwin’s thigh, he disengages himself with a grunt and sits between Erwin's legs, head bowed in forlorn solitariness.

It's not the same. It's already changed, and he's afraid it's irrevocable. He holds his breath in an attempt to preclude the sob he feels could escape from his chest at any second. Moment pass, and convinced that he's back in control of himself, he turns and reaches over to tug at the ties on Erwin’s wrist and gag to free him. Levi barely turns to crawl off the bed when Erwin is on top of him, pinning his wrists to the bed.  
  
Freed from the restraints of his gag, Erwin whispers into Levi’s ear, “Will you let me explain?”  
  
Levi struggles, but the fight in him is irresolute and without spirit. He likes the weight of Erwin on his back, and subtly shifts to push his ass against he blonde's still-hard cock. “There’s nothing to explain. I’m not an idiot. It’s pretty goddamn obvious what’s going on.”  
  
“It’s not,” Erwin counters, sliding his hardness between Levi’s cheeks in recompense. “She’s a college friend. Nothing’s ever happened with her. Nothing ever will. Yes, she hits on me. Because she knows I’m gay, and I’m not even a possibility for her. She also happens to be the key to the collaboration with The Guild, so I'll humor her. To an extent.”  
  
“Then why is she downstairs?” Levi asks, through gritted teeth.  
  
“Because she’s had too much to drink, and I felt it was my responsibility to take care of an old friend.” Erwin drew his hips back and pressed the tip of his cock against Levi’s entrance, and Levi clenched in anticipation. “Which is why she’s downstairs and not up here on my bed, with my cock in _her_ ass.”  
  
“Fucking charming,” Levi retorts, hanging his head as he pushed his ass against Erwin’s imminent hardness.  
  
“I missed you,” Erwin whispers, and a chill goes up Levi’s spine.  
  
“I wouldn’t have known,” Levi says peevishly. “You seemed awfully preoccupied.”  
  
“You’re the one who told me to keep my hands off you and not speak to you about anything but work,” Erwin said with a touch of admonishing.  
  
“Yeah, well, I didn’t really know what I was asking for,” Levi responds tightly. “… I’m sorry. I miss you. …. I’m sorry.”  
  
“I’m sorry, too,” Erwin murmurs into the valley between Levi’s shoulder blades, and Levi moans quietly at the sensation.  
  
When Erwin grips Levi’s hips and fucks into him with abandon, Levi feels himself relax into his hands. He allows Erwin to take him, use him, punish him, to exalt him. He feels Erwin’s burning need through the hand that smooths down the vale of his spine, and knows that he is wanted, and wanted desperately. He feels full of a satisfaction only exacerbated by the devastating, extraneous orgasm that rips through him and leaves him boneless.  
  
Erwin pulls him back into his arms, and Levi rests his head on the blond’s shoulder, letting Erwin’s arms encircle him protectively.  
  
“Do you think she heard?” Erwin asks, breathless.  
  
“I hope she did,” Levi replies sullenly, and Erwin nips at his bare shoulder with his teeth.  
  
“I’ll make her a really nice breakfast tomorrow to make up for it,” Erwin decides.  
  
“I’m going to poison her orange juice.”  
  
“Levi.”  
  
“Nothing big just, some vile cathartic purgatives,” Levi shrugs.

“Is coprophilia part of one of those kinks I’ve yet to find out about?” Erwin asks, kissing Levi’s smooth shoulder.  
  
“Gross.”  
  
“You’re the one who brought it up!” Erwin says, pulling away in exasperation, but Levi turns and wraps his arms around him and pulls the blond against him. In a moment, Levi’s mouth is on the soft flesh beneath the hard line of Erwin’s jaw, sucking hard. He pulls away, pleased to see the red mark darkening against his fair skin.  
  
Erwin rubs his neck, frowning. “Did you just …?”  
  
“Just in case there’s any confusion who you belonged to,” Levi says smugly, reveling in the daydream of what her face would look like, seeing the purpling mark tomorrow morning.  
  
“There never was,” Erwin says with a sigh. “Everyone knows that you’re the one I’m devoted to. Christ, even _she_ knows that. You’re the only one who won’t admit it.” He pulls Levi into his lap and kisses the nape of his neck. “This whole thing could have been avoided if you let me tell everyone we were dating.”  
  
Levi purses his lips. “Maybe.”  
  
“Maybe Monday morning I’ll tell our coworkers.”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
“Maybe you’ll admit you’re ok with this.”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
Erwin kisses the back of Levi’s ear. “Not maybe. You will.”  
  
“Why’s that?” Levi asks, frowning.  
  
“Because I’m yours, Levi,” Erwin murmurs. “And I think you want everyone to know that.”  
  
Levi presses his lips to Erwin’s. “Maybe.”


End file.
